No Choice At All
by MuseDePandora
Summary: Sarah Williams: Wife and Mother. Shaped by those titles, she lives in suspense of the Goblin King breaking her adult and disillusioned world. Jareth could do just that in his reckless pursuit to better the girl in a game of choice.
1. Part One

No Choice At All

Author: Bella (musedepandora@yahoo.com)

Part 1

Short Summary: Sarah Williams: Wife and Mother. Shaped by those titles, she lives in suspense of the Goblin King breaking her adult and disillusioned world. Jareth could do just that in his reckless pursuit to better the girl in a game of choice. A five part, short work.

Rating: PG, for now

Archiving: All I ask is to let me know where to find you and my story. Contact me through my email provided.

Disclaimer (Applies to all chapters.): No Choice At All is a piece of fan fiction, written with the authoress' respect and appreciation of Labyrinth, its creators and those who own the rights. The characters, settings, and history of Labyrinth are borrowed. The plot devices and story line created by the authoress are her creative property. No profit is being made by the writing of this piece of fan fiction.

Special Thanks to: Lady Silma, who reintroduced me to Labyrinth and its fandom. 

* * *

She dreamt of golden baubles and fair faces, of laughter and forgotten places. Air was sweet upon her tongue, gardens green and lush. A timid sun rose over the rolling hills and open gates, showering rays as soft as moonlight upon her skin. Riddles ran through her mind.

One door leading to certain end.

One door leading the same way and back again. 

Choose the right, never choose the left. If she had gone that way . . .

But they were liars, these laughers bestowed with sweet tongues and golden faces. She began to remember of these forgotten places, gardens shriveling under the brightening and bleeding of the sky, hills rolling as rocks were given voice. And the open gates closed behind her.

She was trapped in His Labyrinth again.

"No!" Sarah Williams bolted from the bed. Shaky hands rose to her throat, clutching the twine there and the silver pendant made slick by her fretting flesh. Her breath rasped within her ears as her heart beat behind her eyes. 

Sarah turned back to the bed; reluctantly crawling over the twisted sheets and blanket towards the figure huddled beneath undisturbed covers. She reached out a hand, pausing, listening, glancing about herself, waiting for drawers to open and close with a crash, bedcovers to crawl. None came. Decidedly, she snatched forth to the covers and the man lying there.

Her husband looked back up to her, bleary eyed . . .eyes as wide as an owl's. 

"Sarah, you have to stop doing this," he grumbled as he turned over, pulling the blanket from her nerveless fingers. 

Sarah sat back heavily upon her heels, looking down at the dark man lying in their bed. His form ran the length of the bed and his girth was strong and substantial without being flabby and overbearing. His presence was reassuring in the night, and in theory during the day. He was a very imposing figure to those who gave just a wayward glance, and to those that stared too long. He was comforting, reassuring, and real. Her heart began to slow and breath steadied as she gazed down at the unknowing man.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, a sigh of relief, reaching forward to push the dark hair from his brow. 

But heart, breath, and movement stopped as the shrill tune of a music box whispered into the air.

"Jonathon," she said to herself, pushing back off from the bed and rushing to the door. 

"Where're you going, Sarah?" 

She turned but a moment, head worrying this way and that, between the questioning of her husband and the ghostly tune.

"I'm going to check on the baby," she said, easily pulling the door open, as it was never truly shut.

"Don't wake him up _again,_" he said. "Babies need their sleep. I need my sleep. You need your sleep. Why can't we all just go to sleep?" 

Yet, Sarah did not hear him over the slap of her feet against the wooden floors, legs straining to rush but not run. No, no more running. The sound of the music box became familiar and clearer as she approached the open door. She pushed through it as if it were not there and immediately ran to the source of the sound, high upon a shelf and far from her son's pudgy hands. 

A small, porcelain figure danced around herself, swathed in a crisp, yellowing dress, hair hiding her face since some fall at Toby's hand, within the dusty glass orb that played on as she turned and turned.  Sarah hated that box, hated its music, hated its memories. She hated it but could not bear to rid herself of it. So she stowed it away on some high shelf in the nursery -the very shelf she was looking at now- as some final spite to the memories she could not rid herself of. It said, "You have no power over me." And the music box had been silent since.

Yet, now it sang on and the figure danced. 

She clawed at the lower shelves, reaching up to grasp the music box. Her hand wrapped around the cold metal base.

And the music stopped. 

            Sarah stilled, weight heavy upon the shelves as they creaked. The tiny figure was turned to her, face obstructed by the dark bushel of hair. But she would have sworn that it was smiling knowingly down on her. Quickly, she let go of it, as if stung, and stepped back from the shelves. She worried her hands before her, taking cautious steps back, eyes intent upon the figure and glass she was caught within.

            She should have never placed the damned thing in her son's room. Never. How could she have dared place such a tainted thing in the same room as Jonathon? It was tempting, it was taunting, and it was daring. 

            Jonathon.

            She turned swiftly to the cradle across the room, furthest from the window and closest to the door. Her hands clasped upon the plastic railing, eyes widely looking down on the angelic face peacefully a slumber. Sarah smiled at the sound of his gentle, even breathing, watched the slow rise and fall of his breast. His light blanket had been disturbed and was scrunched about his feet towards the end of the small mattress. She quickly pulled the blanket back up to cover his form and tucked it around his sides and curled legs. He liked being tightly swathed during his sleep but she didn't wish to wake him. Her brow furrowed at the thought. Jonathon never kicked off his blanket, never traveled in his sleep. How he finally fell asleep was how he awoke. Her hand hovered over the blanket that she had just tucked around the child. She watched her fingers shake as the baby yawned and shifted.

            Sarah drew a loud, shaky breath.

            Within her son's hand was one white feather.

            Sarah fell to the floor with her back to the cradle, knees drawn to her breast, and closed her eyes against the tears as the music box played again. 

* * *

Thank you for reading and I'd appreciate a review with feedback. 


	2. Part Two

No Choice At All

Part 2

* * *

A feather, two earrings, and three green jewels: each day a present laid in wait for Sarah. She was determined to refuse to let tokens reduce her to a state of hysteria. She refused to let Him any further control. He had no power over her. The thought served to reassure her frantic nerves, if little else. Six years and unthinkable fathoms separated her from His Labyrinth.

            But at the sight of those jewels upon the third morning cut a calming resolve into Sarah. This taunt was unacceptable. Three jewels: one over each sleeping eye and the third and last gracing the tiny brow. No, such omens crossed the line of acceptable, eliciting a maternal horror in her that Sarah feared in herself.

            If he wished to visit her again –for she took the visits now to be of a personal nature- then she would be there personally to greet him.

            That night, she rocked her son asleep safely in the circle of her arms, eyes obsessing over the only window. Moonlight gilded her thoughts, tying one moment seamlessly into the next, entrapping and mesmerizing her in starlit depths. 

            From the moment of realization, she hated herself for it, but she must have fallen asleep.

Sarah seemingly awoke from her trance-like dream and immediately felt a strangeness surrounding. She could think of no more precise of a description. It felt strange.

"You have your mother's eyes."

            The voice stilled her heart and blood. Blinking back the haziness from her vision, Sarah spied a tall, fair figure not two yards from where she sat. He almost glowed in the moonlight, as if directly taken from some midnight dream or fantasy. Oh, how close to the truth that was. It was only as she spotted the bundle in his arms and heard Jonathon's giggles did she realize the emptiness within her arms.

            Jareth's eyes caught her own with a piercing gaze as he jostled the baby playfully.

            "Ah," he said with a fiendish grin, "we seemed to have woken mummy. I do hope she's not cranky."

            "Give me back my baby," she said as threateningly as she could. Jareth frowned and looked down at the child in his arms, paying little mind to the hands reaching out to him. "Now!"

            He had the audacity to look to her disapprovingly with a tsk. "Temper, temper." 

            "Please," she rose from the rocking chair slowly, watching the other with each move. Jareth merely flickered a seemingly bored eye upon her, mismatched gaze lazily focused down upon the child, "don't hurt him."

            He looked to her sharply, mock aghast. "I'd never _dream _of such a thing!"

            "Then why are you here?" she asked, taking a daring step towards him.

            Tucking the child further into his arms, he turned from her grasp and strode purposefully to the open window. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah . . ." He leaned into the windowsill. "What do you take me for, some kind of monster?" He sighed. "Our relationship has ever been a misunderstood one."

            "We don't have a relationship," Sarah bit out, eyes worrying upon her son and open window.

            The look was not lost to Jareth and he smiled knowingly to her before looking down at the two-story fall below.

            "I'm hurt," he said without feeling. "Thirteen blissful—."

            "Hellish," Sarah inserted.

            "Hours," he continued as if never interrupted, "and you forget in –what? - three short years?"

            "Six," Sarah corrected.

            "My, my how time flies." 

            "Please," Sarah said, eyes focused upon the lithe figure draped over the windowsill, "give Jonathon back and leave."

            "But I just got here," he complained flatly.

            "Don't you have other toddlers to snatch or pubescent girls to bother?" she asked, crossing her arms protectively beneath her breasts.

            Jareth overtly observed the motion; his eyes rising to her own as if to be sure she had saw him watch. "Oh, but it's not the same, Sarah." Jareth smiled to her.

            "You're sick!"

            "How can any measure up to that witty repartee?" 

            "I hate you!"

            "Or your humble graciousness."

            "Stop it! Just stop it!" she exclaimed, surprised by the ardor in her own tone.

            Jareth fell silent; one gloved finger captured in Jonathon's small fist, waiting gaze upon her. She merely stared back at him, lost for words, and tired in the search. He raised one brow as if to say, "Well?"

            "You can't do this," she stated firmly.

            "This?"

            "This!"

            "And why not?"

            "Because it's not --."

            "Fair?" he suggested with a wicked grin.

            "No," she said, mustering her resolve. "It's not in our agreement."

            "Oh?"

            "No."

            "We came to an agreement?" he asked, as if the concept was a novel idea foreign to him.

            "Yes."

            "No."

            "Yes!"

            Jareth sighed as a man whose patience was being infinitely tried. "Sarah, must I have an ulterior motive for dropping in on my Friday girl?"

            Sarah looked to him silently.

            "Well . . .that ruins the surprise. What a pity," he said blandly.

            "I hate you!" she seethed.

            "At least, you're consistent."

            "Why can't you just leave me alone? Why couldn't you find some other girl and turn her life upside-down?" A brittle quality broke into her voice. She knew that she sounded desperate. 

            And she was.

            He moved to her, eyes deep and possessing. The babe was silent and still within his arms. His movements were distinctly predatory. Sarah resolved to hold her ground in the midst of such a daunting approach and gaze. A gloved hand freed from Jonathon's sleepy fist rose to hover over her cheek, pre-caress. He leaned forward and her lips parted in gasp and expectation. At the last moment, he turned, lips lingering a breath away from her ear. 

            "Don't you see, Sarah?" he asked, voice like velvet, pulling back to look upon her face. 

            She sidestepped from him, inadvertently placing her cheek into his waiting palm, forcing a caress he appeared pleased to give. Yet, it felt more of the taking than giving variety. 

            "See what?" she whispered.

            "I can't." He looked down upon her and she felt as that same fifteen-year-old girl pleading for her brother. But there was a passion in his eyes she had not seen at that time. The passion promised and frightened her. The reassuring warmth of her son was forced back into her arms before Jareth strode to the window with determination. Sarah greedily wrapped Jonathon in her embrace.

            "Yes, you can," she said, hugging the baby to her breast.

            Jareth looked to her pointedly and sidelong before turning back to the window. "I can't. Not until I win."

            "I've already won."

            "Oh, have you?" It was more of a statement than a question seeking answer.

            "Yes," she said adamantly. "I had to solve your labyrinth and I did, though you tricked me and poisoned me. I won and you promised that'd be it. Done. Finished. I get Toby and my life back, without you."

            Jareth turned and rose one dark finger to point at Sarah. "I made no such promises." Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but his hand opened to bare a palm. "Think, Sarah. When did I ever utter such ridiculous words?"

            She was momentarily paused. 

            "Well, you didn't say it in so many words."

            "Ah," he said, folding his arms smugly. 

            "But it was insinuated."

            "Insinuated?" He laughed.

            "Yes," she said, her voice breaking.

            "Dear girl, did you learn nothing from my labyrinth?"

            "What do you want with Jonathon anyways? There's nothing special about him."

            A smile grew across his face.

            "You take far too many things for granted, Sarah. Who ever said I wanted the baby?" He rose a brow in mocking request. "Hmm . . .?" He appeared rather pleased with himself as he turned to the window again.

            "You have no power--."

            He turned back sharply.

            "Are you so sure?" he asked, a seriousness about him that struck a cold fear within her. "Be warned, I don't take kindly to losing. In fact, I don't lose. Pretty words of mortal fairy tales are only that. Just because you happen to stumble upon random words strung into significance does not give you the right," He paused, "or power to use them. Be warned, Sarah."

            She could not withstand the power of his gaze and took momentary relief in looking upon her son. When she looked back to the window, she was not surprised to find the Goblin King gone.

* * *

**To the readers and past reviewers**:

Thank you for reading and I'd appreciate a review with feedback. 

**Jessie Deal**: Again, I am sorry I did not quickly post the next part. Thank you for reviewing.

**Serpintine**: I'm glad you enjoyed the first part. I love your screen name. Thank you for reviewing. 

**Kitten4**: Seeing as how much you seemed to enjoy the first part, I'm sorry how long it took me to post this one, especially in view of it already having been finished. Thank you for reviewing.

**Lady Silma**: Kinda funny to look back on reviews from back then, huh? Wrangle more out of me. You didn't do a good job, Silma! I blame you. *Clears throat* OK. All my fault, I admit it. Thank you for reviewing.

**Bonnie4**: Here's the more I have at the moment. Thank you for reviewing. 


	3. Part Three

No Choice At All

Part 3 

* * *

            Days passed in a continuous system of worry and relief. Sarah went about her life as usual, even if she kept a wayward eye on her son. Jonathon seemed unaware of her particular attention, though Sarah's husband made note of the anxious air.

            "What's wrong, Sarah? You seem . . . strange."

            "I'm fine. Fine," she answered mindlessly while tucking Jonathon in the bed between them.

            She could not say if she had slept, as her dreams were as dark and still as reality. At some time, her hair rustled in a breeze from the open window and she knew, before Jareth's voice was heard. 

            "I hope you don't mind the intrusion. I took the open window as an invitation." His voice was ever something unreal, sarcastic. Sarah sensed his words always held something hidden, as if by Jareth's very nature.

            A sense of cold then hot tinged her skin with the release and realization of expectation before she forced herself to sit upright. The blankets fell to her waist loudly. Her son and husband slept soundly to her side, quietly; it was as if everything but what she and Jareth influenced was put on mute. As she looked to the man across the room, Sarah realized it very well could have been so.

            Jareth lounged on the bedroom's window seat, a hand carelessly resting atop a raised knee. His striking gaze settled on her and she felt the heavier with the intensity.

            "I wanted you to come," she said; her voice hollow sounding in her ears. 

            Jareth smiled wolfishly.

            "I knew you'd come; just not when," she explained, rising from the bed with a slight creak. 

            His eyes flickered away from her for several moments before returning with calculating attention. Tilting his fair head as if in some curious thought, he spoke, "Taking control, I see. Sarah, love, always the power-miser. Have you considered your control a cheap façade; some not so grand caper?"

            "My control seems real enough. You are the only thing that strikes me as fantasy," she replied, pushing her hair impatiently behind her ears. He raised his brow at this, almost in amusement but Sarah sensed a sharp danger hiding beneath the surface.

            "Fantasy. Reality," he played with the words, intensifying each syllable unnaturally while gesturing to and fro. Jareth stopped suddenly, his gesture abruptly turning sharp. "There is no difference."

            Sarah smiled. "Oh, there's a difference."

            "Shame on you," he said with a pout, "you know better than that."

            "I'm not a little girl anymore. I've grown up, and life's taught me the difference of the fantastic and the real."

            "People have versed you in the 'real'," he uttered the word with distaste. "Life has obviously taught you nothing."

            This caused her pause.

            "What do you mean?" Sarah asked suspiciously.

            Again, that smile, but only a flicker before he swallowed it unto control, making it all the more devious. 

            "Perhaps you'll find answer here," he said, opening the palm of his hand to show a crystal. A moment before, his hands had been empty; Sarah was sure of this. The crystal couldn't have possibly been hidden in his hands, no matter how long fingered they were. Sarah tried not to think on this.

            She felt her head shaking before even thought of an answer solidified in her mind.

            "No," Sarah laughed. "You aren't going to get me so easy. I know what you're trying to do."

            "Oh," he asked without looking at her, seemingly taken with his own creation.

            "Yeah," she went on. "You want me to give you permission to . . . do something. You're trying to trick me. Not this time, Goblin King." 

            "Nothing gets past you," Jareth muttered before tossing the crystal into the air and catching it again with ease before standing, staring at her with hard purpose. "You have no idea what I offer you."

            Her throat had long turned dry and she swallowed hard before speaking, "I don't want to."

            "Are you scared you might be tempted, Sarah?" he asked, with a growing grin. He took a step forward, not breaking gaze. "You have built yourself a pretty prison, against anything of the fantastic, as you say. There is nothing here extraordinary, Sarah; nothing worthy of you."

            "How could you--,"she began but he interrupted her before she could finish the thought. He had to say nothing to silence her. With two long strides, he drew near and looked to her almost in pity or some other emotion she could not mark.

            "With a thought," he said with much embellishment, somehow twisting the innocent words into something delicious, promising; sexual. 

            She swallowed again, hard.

            "Why are you doing this? I'm happy here. This is all I ever wanted. This is good. This is how it's supposed to be. This is _real_."

            He allowed a breath's pause, and she could hear him draw breath alongside her. There was something too intimate about the sound. 

            "You have no reason to convince me," Jareth said. "But, I must say, I am very disappointed in you."

            Sarah drew a shaky breath.

            "You're right, of course," his words cut sharply through the air as he sidestepped Sarah and looked about the room. "This is all any woman could ever want. Crown molding and picket fence to boot. How could you not be happy?"

             "You're mocking me," she said, somehow angered.

            "Well, I've never been one for picket fences," he said with as much seriousness as he ever had. Sarah could not help but laugh. "This is not the daring young woman who challenged a king."

            She worried the inside of her lip and looked around herself. It was obvious to her that it wasn't. There was no attachment to those walls, to the man in her bed, or even to her life. It was something disconnected. She lived it to do just that and little more.

            "No, it's not," Sarah murmured. Her eyes fell upon her son where he slept deeply beside his father. "But I love my baby."

            Jareth sighed, "Of course you do but you are no mother. Just as Toby should've never been your responsibility, he should not be yours."

            "No."

            "He will never bring substance to this homely _existence_. You can never be _happy _with that. And how can he be happy when you are never happy with him? Is a child born in hope of some meaning in its parent's life in the end ever wanted?" His soft voice was alluring and persuasive. She felt him walk up to stand behind her and felt his heavy hands fall on her shoulders. 

            "For a moment," Sarah began. "I almost said 'no' and then he would've been yours, wouldn't he?" She turned in his grasp and was forced to look up to him. "I won't give him to you." His face neither fell nor moved in any manner from curious observation. "But I can't ask you to leave, either," she said finally as if it were ripped from within her and in a way it was. It was something thought but decidedly placed aside as to never be uttered in any living presence. 

            He smiled as if pleased with himself and raised the crystal in an elegant gesture. Jareth looked to it momentarily in consideration before holding it out to her, "Look what I offer you."

            "Tell me," she said; looking to him instead. He almost seemed surprised by this but swiftly the flash of a start passed. "You can't lie to me, can you? But the crystal can. That's why you want me to look, not ask."

            "It'll show you your dreams," he said, extending it to her.

            "I'm sure it would," she muttered looking away. Momentarily, she glanced about herself, as if to mentally steel her resolve. Quickly she looked back to him. "Tell me what you offer."

            "A dangerous game," he answered and she knew he hid something. There had to have been something hidden in his words yet they also had to be true or else he never would have uttered them. 

            "What am I playing for?" Sarah asked, standing where she was but fighting to keep her eyes from straying to the crystal he offered her, afraid of becoming lost there. She focused on his eyes and was unsure if that was much better.

            He smiled. "You are playing for yourself, Sarah."

            "And you?" She swallowed hard, taking a step towards him without thought. 

            "I am playing for myself, as well," Jareth answered. 

            "But can I win?" She stopped a foot before him, unsure of how she had become so close. He still held the crystal out before him; out to her.

            Jareth gave the barest of nods. 

            "I have to know," Sarah said, placing her hand atop the crystal. Her eyes connected with his own and she felt the long fingers of his other hand wrap around her wrist. He laughed as the world melted away. 

* * *

**To the readers and past reviewers**:

Thank you for reading and I'd appreciate a review with feedback.

**LabyLvrPhx**: I'm glad that you enjoyed it. You'll find out soon what Jareth is up to. Well, kind of. Thank you for reviewing.

**rath**** roiben rye**: I like fanfics that portray Jareth like that, as well. Mostly because that's what drew me to his character in the movie. He was threatening but he was erotic too. It's what makes a fae. They like their games, and games does not always mean safe. But they are also alluring and intelligent. I try to write him with that as a couple of his guiding principals. But not all of them. I'm glad you enjoyed the story and I hope you enjoy this new part as well. I look forward to what you think. Thank you for reviewing.

**Sheena**: J/S? Hmm . . .*Smile*. Yes, there is definite J/S tendencies in the story. It may become more than tendencies. I admit that I am unsure how intense the J/S will be. Read on to find out. Thank you for reviewing.

**AshleySAMC**: Thank you very much. I don't think I'd be able to survive not having quick internet access whenever I wanted it. I look forward to seeing what you think when you get access again. Thank you for reviewing.

**Applekrisp14**: If you thought them arguing with her husband in the other room was amusing, I wonder what you think of Jareth and Sarah talking in the same room as her husband. I'm glad you are enjoying the story. Thank you for reviewing.


	4. Part Four

No Choice At All

Part 4

* * * 

Sarah held her eyes tightly closed. A cold chill traveled down the length of her spine at the squeal and laughter of goblins. They had been the things of nightmares and memories long wished forgotten. Where the chilled surface of a crystal had been placed into her palm, leather and the warmth of Jareth's hand was pressed into hers. 

            He let her linger a moment against the warmth of his body. But then she felt the hand twisted around her wrist tighten and he pulled her away from him in a twirl, as if they had been dancing all these years. 

            "Welcome to my Game Room, Sarah," his silky voice made her feel all the more dizzy as she slowly opened her eyes. The goblins laughed at his words and he laughed along with them shortly. As soon as he stopped, the grand room fell silent.

            Sarah looked around herself cautiously. Her hands suddenly felt very empty and she worried them together in front of her for want of something to do with them.

            The room was made of old stone, edges rough and wearied. Towards the ceiling, cut directly from the stone, ran a small balcony the length of the room, far above their heads. Goblins nested there, pushing and pulling at each other's fur and space. 

            Sunlight filtered into the room catching on dust lifted into the air, giving the illusion of glitter. This did not unsettle her until Sarah turned around and realized there were in fact no windows into the room. The light fell from the rims of three floating doors. 

            During the short time that Sarah had taken in her surroundings, Jareth had stood beside her with his arms folded across his chest, a smug smile upon his lips. 

            "This is the game?" Sarah asked, stealing her eyes from the doors to look back at Jareth. "These doors?"

            "Not the doors themselves, of course. They merely offer possibility." Jareth placed his hands on her upper arms and forced her a step forward. "What they offer," she looked back to him but he pushed her chin back with a long, gloved finger with an, "-uh uh-," so that she would look ahead again, before continuing, "there lies the game, waiting for choice."

            "Choice? What do I have to choose?" she asked, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eyes.

            "Everything. Or nothing, if you so choose, but then you would've chosen something, wouldn't have you?" he answered, in his own way.

            "I'm supposed to choose one of the doors?" It was the only thing she could reason from his words.

            The goblins laughed hysterically at this, falling over each other at some joke Sarah did not know. Jareth smiled indulgently for a moment before turning back at them sharply.

            The room became silent again.

            "Unless you wish for me to choose," he offered, too kindly.

            "No!" Sarah almost immediately said, automatically sure she did not want to choose any door Jareth would. With that thought she looked to the Goblin King slyly. "But I wonder which you would choose."

            "The left, of course," he offered with a charming smile.

            She looked to the door on her left. It was crafted from cast iron, dark as ebony, but far less precious. The door looked dangerous, all the more so with Jareth's choosing.

            Sarah's immediate response was to look to the door on her right; the opposite of what Jareth would've chosen.

            "A tip amongst friends?" Jareth's voice seemingly came out of nowhere to speak directly into her ear. To her credit, Sarah did not jump.

            "What's it going to cost me?"

            He exhaled in a sort of laugh and his hot breath rustled the air around her ear. She shivered.

            "Nothing. This one is free."

            "I don't believe you."

            He sighed with annoyance, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, almost in a caress. "Sarah, love, you have no hope of winning this game without the test of risk. The question should be: can you risk not at least hearing my advice?"

            "Alright," Sarah decided it would not hurt to at least hear what he had to say. 

            "Never, ever, under any circumstances, whether they be dire or otherwise . . ." He paused. 

            "Yes?" she prompted, now anxious to hear what he was to say. Sarah turned towards him, their bodies far too close but unable to will herself to make distance.

            He cocked his head slightly to the side, a nasty glint in his eyes. Neither did Jareth make a move to distance himself.

            "I am no longer sure you deserve my advice."

            Sarah made a rude noise of disbelief. "Figures!" she cried, throwing her hands into the air and accidentally –yes, accidentally – touching Jareth across the chest. He took no small measure of amusement from this.

            "Alright," she expelled with a frustrated breath. "It was probably a trick anyway." Sarah looked to him searchingly, as if he would somehow give away the answer. Jareth raised one eyebrow at her stare. "Right," she muttered, turning around.

            "I choose-," she began, taking a step towards the right.

            "Choose the right door," he finished causing her a lengthy pause.

            Sarah turned around slowly again, a pleased grin growing across her face.

            "No," she said pointedly. Hopefully that would cause him half the frustration he caused her. Jareth's face did not change but remained impassive. Sarah took that for his annoyance.

            "I choose the middle door," she finally decided, taking a step towards the plain, wooden door before them.

            "As you wish," he said and the pleasure in his voice was palatable. 

            It was the silence that first unnerved her. She looked up quickly to make sure the goblins were still there. They were, but they remained silent. They were waiting and watching as Jareth moved to open the door.

            Their silent observation scared her and she cried out to Jareth, "No! Wait!"

            "Too late," Jareth said as he pulled the door open with a creak.

            Involuntarily, Sarah drew in a sharp breath. Inside the doorframe there only appeared to be shadow. But as Jareth stepped back from the door left ajar, two old hands grasped the bottom of the doorframe. Soon followed elbows as someone was seemingly pulling himself up and out the door. Then came shoulders and a head, capped in graying hair. The face kept its eyes on Sarah as he pulled himself the rest of the way out. His eyes were oddly colored. Purple they were yet Sarah could not wait for them to leave her. 

            He smiled crookedly, baring a pinkish tongue between perfect teeth.

            "What a pretty, pretty thing. Beautiful," the man purred, taking no step towards them. He plainly stood three paces before the door from which he came, chewing on his tongue. His eyes turned to Jareth as he took a step towards the door.

            "And Jareth, magnificent as always. You haven't aged a day!"

            "I would hope not," was his answer, moving to sidestep the old man. His figure was quite imposing as Sarah saw that he was taller than the Goblin King, who towered several inches over her.

            "I would think you'd take steps to avoid me, since our last meeting," the man continued as Jareth drew beside him. 

            "I am," Jareth said as he stepped behind the man and walked with a proud stance into the doorway. For a moment, Sarah swore she saw him stand on thin air. But a moment later, he fell without sound from her vision.

            The old man looked genuinely put out before he returned his attention to Sarah. A bright smile grew across his face, without matching his next words. "Such a pity. Pity, pity, pity. Pity the Goblin King. But where the Goblin King has gone Sarah will not follow."

            "How do you know my name?" she asked in a threatening tone.

            "Jareth spoke it. Do you not remember?" he asked back, chewing his tongue between his teeth.

            "No, I don't." Sarah took a step back.

            "Do you fear Jareth? Do you fear the Goblin King?" He took a step forward, his hands twisting the cloth of his long, dark robe. "You should. He's going to hurt you. You can never escape him, Sarah. He cares nothing but to win the game. He cares nothing for you. No. No, Sarah. He feels nothing. He is a monster!" 

            Sarah began retreating as the old man spoke. She felt a coldness grow heavy within her chest as he verbalized her fears.

            "Poor child," he said with a smile. "Just stay here and he'll never touch you again. He'll never hurt you again. You are safe here. Yes, sit down. I will keep you company."

            When the man paused for breath, the room was so deathly quiet. As the old man opened his mouth to speak again, Sarah held up a hand to hush him. Momentarily, it did. But, quickly, he recovered and began speaking again.

            "Jareth has trapped . . ."

            She tried to ignore him as she looked around herself. The goblins were silent and quivering, huddled together, as far away from the edge of the balcony as possible. They were terrified.

            "You have no power over me," she said, quickly looking back to the old man. 

            His grin grew and he continued speaking. Well, it was worth a try.

            "You have no power here, Sarah. You are as powerless as a child. But this is what you want, isn't it? At heart, you know you deserve this for what you put Toby through. Jareth is not the villain. You are."

            Sarah knew that she had to get to that door. She had to follow Jareth. He was allowed to just pass the man by. Maybe it was that easy. Still, she was afraid. Of course, she can walk in fear. With resolve, Sarah moved to pass the man to the door.

            The loud slap registered in her ears before the sting on her cheek. She lightly touched her cheek in disbelief.

            He'd hit her!

            She'd never been hit by another person in the whole of her life. It somehow had never occurred to her that she'd actually be hit. Philosophically, yes, but it was a distant thing to never actually happen.

            "You don't want to do that, child," he warned in a smile and suddenly very severe tone.

            Sarah ran past him, towards the door. She knew she had to get to the door and follow Jareth down into shadow. She cried out as she felt arms –too strong, far too strong for her to hope to fight- wrap around her waist. And she was thrown through the air.

            She hit the stone floor hard, and bit back a cry though several tears ran down her cheeks at the pain. In an analytical part of her mind, she heard her nightgown rip.

            Sarah was angry. Never had she been used like this; thrown like a doll. She was so angry, Sarah wanted to hurt him back.

            "I hate you!" she said, low in her throat, almost as a growl. The man took a step back at her words. Sarah felt stronger with the show of power.

            She rose to her feet unsteadily. Her bare feet slapped on the floor softly as she ran at him, the sound covered by a chorused gasp that fell from the balcony above. Hitting his body, she felt him stumble back. His ankles hit the bottom of the open doorway and then they were falling.

            She was falling alone in shadow. Sarah closed her eyes and waited to hit the bottom. Idly, she wondered if Jareth would've waited for her there. 

            Sarah opened her eyes as her skirt settled back at her calves and her hair fell in her face and on her shoulders.

            "I was beginning to think I'd won already." Jareth sat before her in a chair beside a desk.

            She was surrounded in the shadow but as she looked up, she saw the light from the doorway. The fall had felt so long. But the doorway was only a couple feet above the reach of her hands.

            Where Jareth sat, light fell on a well-sized office, with shadow for walls. It seemed so strange to see Jareth surrounded by what appeared to be the most modern furnishings.

            "Don't tell me you've gone mute, too? How dull," Jareth said, throwing a leg over the leather armchair in which he was seated.

            "What the Hell?" Sarah muttered, walking into the office and light. A lounge stretched beside Jareth's chair, like the ones in an old film's impression of a therapist's office. Books lined towering bookshelves without titles.

            "Apparently not," Jareth drawled at her words.

            Suddenly, as she realized its existence, a door behind the grand oak desk, laden with papers and –strangely enough- Slinkies, was pushed open and the old man walked in. Sarah was too confused to gasp. He entered hastily with two large, medical files in his arms and a pair of expensive-looking, wire-rimmed glasses falling off the bridge of his nose.

            "Sorry, sorry I'm late," he muttered, pushing papers off the desk and setting the two files down heavily on the surface. "Oh," he said as reflex and grabbed one of the Slinkies. "Do you . . ?" He held the metal toy out to Jareth and Sarah felt her eyes widen to see the Goblin King accept it. "Do sit. Do sit," he said to Sarah, pulling his chair over the array of papers on the floor. The crunch made her cringe. Finally, he sat in his seat and grabbed the larger file that he had brought with him, which conveniently sat atop the much smaller. "Sit!" he ordered and Sarah mechanically walked over to the chair opposite Jareth's, to the other side of the desk. She sat slowly as if afraid she were about to fall straight through the chair.

            "Now, let's get down to business." The old man opened the large file in half and let it fall over heavily, causing more papers to fly and flutter. "Jareth, let's begin with you, shall we?"

            Jareth perked up from what appeared to be his nonchalant boredom with the whole of the man's arrival. He tossed the slinky over his shoulder and steepled his fingers across his chest, somehow causing the move to draw Sarah's full attention. She blushed at watching his long fingers lace tightly one into the other.

            "Yes," he said, drawing Sarah back to the conversation he had been having with the man. 

            "Let the record show Jareth, Goblin King, entered the middle door, selected by Sarah Willliams, at the twenty-second minute of the sixteenth hour," the old man said without raising pen or otherwise to the paper. For a moment, he paused and considered the file before him, chewing his tongue in a habit Sarah was beginning to find nauseating. "Do you wish to add anything else?" He looked up to the Goblin King expectantly.

            "Add "walked fearlessly into shadow,"" Jareth instructed, running a hand out before him in a grandiose gesture from left to right as if touching the page on which the words would be written.

            "Let it so be amended," the old man said without care, already pushing the file aside, still open. He grabbed the smaller one and opened it delicately, as if its sparse pages would tear.

            "Sarah," he muttered, fingering the two pages that made her full file. "Well, well, haven't we room to grow?"

            Jareth laughed lightly, sweeping down a long arm and retrieving a paper from the mess around his feet. 

            "All concerning the Goblin King I see. A little obsessive?"

            "What?" Sarah exclaimed, hands tightening on the armrests. "How can you say that; I am **not** obsessed." There was a momentary pause before she added, "If _anyone'_s obsessed, it's **him**!"

            "Sarah, _really,_" Jareth chided, glancing at the document in his hand. He must have found something interesting as he pulled the paper further away as if to better view it.

            "Looks like we have a conflict of opinions here," the old man said in a tone far too similar to that of her therapist at home for her comfort. 

            "Look, old man," she began.

            "I am a doctor, young woman!" he interrupted.

            "Very touchy," Jareth said, moving the paper momentarily aside to see her as he spoke before moving it back again. Sarah couldn't tell if he'd meant the doctor or herself.

            "You chose the door, did you not?" the doctor asked, seemingly unaware of Jareth and her exchange.

            "Yes," she said cautiously.

            "Why didn't you choose the door Jareth recommended?"

            "Because Jareth recommended it!" She closed her mouth with a snap at using the Goblin King's personal name.

            "Issues with trust," the doctor dug out a pen and began writing wildly in her file.

            "Wait! That's not fair! You wrote **nothing** in his file," she objected, edging forward in her seat. 

            "Not fair!" Jareth mocked in disgust. "I had hoped you'd grown out of that _detestable _phrase."

            "I see the sexual tension goes both ways," the doctor muttered, putting his pen to Jareth's medical record. Well, what Sarah took to be a medical record. 

            Both she and Jareth startled at this. Jareth stiffened in the chair, a silent, calculating gaze on the doctor. 

            Sarah spoke without thought, "Sexual what?"

            "Tension," Jareth supplied in a pleasant, low tone that caused the doctor's pen to stop for a moment. At seeing Jareth's glare, he decided he had written enough.

            "I heard what he said," Sarah muttered, sliding back into the depths of her chair. "I just want to know what this has to do with the game."

            "You owe Jareth an apology," the doctor said.

            "What!"

            "An apology," Jareth repeated. "Really, Sarah, are you sure your hearing's alright?"

            "I've reviewed your file and I've decided you owe Jareth an apology," the old man explained.

            "Alright. Why?"

            "Because you did not choose the left."

            "You have got to be joking."

            "You lose. Now you must apologize. Your lack of trust was truly deplorable," Jareth said, tossing the document in his hands aside.

            "You've lost the first game. You must give the Goblin King something precious: an apology," the doctor dictated. At her hesitation, he waved a hand impatiently.

            She turned towards Jareth and opened her mouth but then quickly looked to the doctor. "What am I apologizing for?"

            The doctor sighed through his teeth. "Anything. But it must be heartfelt."

            "Heartfelt, huh?" Sarah muttered, turning back to Jareth. He raised his brow expectantly. She cleared her throat, giving herself time to think. "I . . ."

            "Yes?" Jareth prodded ruthlessly. She muttered quickly under her breath, like how she used to apologize to her step-mother, not long ago. "What was that?" Jareth asked with a grin.

            "I'm sorry if I hurt you. Last time. When I won," she said, forcing herself to look up to him.

            Jareth's smile fell quickly, replaced almost by a frown. She didn't know how to take his reaction.

            "You didn't hurt me. You can't," he said, placing a smug smile back on his face.

            "But I remember the look on your face and I'm sorry," she explained. 

            Jareth smiled viciously, pushing himself up in the chair; for a moment sitting properly. "I hope this is not a portend of things to come. I had been hoping for a more precious reward for my win."

            "Too bad," the doctor said, causing even Sarah to gap that anyone would talk to the Goblin King in such a way. "Jareth, Goblin King, passes the first trial. Sarah Williams, contender, does not pass." He picked up the files and found half a danish underneath. "Let it so be noted." He placed the danish between his teeth and rose form the chair, mumbling byes around his mouthful before slipping out the door again.

            "How many trials like this will there be?" Sarah asked as Jareth rose from his chair and pulled at his gloves.

            "Three," he answered, stepping on and over the lounge chair to move towards where they had fell.

            "Will he be there?" 

            "No," Jareth said, looking up to the door above their heads, with his hands on his hips.

            "Thank god," Sarah muttered.

            "The feeling's mutual," he added. She didn't know if he meant that he felt the same as her about the doctor or if the doctor felt the same as her about them. Sarah decided to trust in the former. 

            She rose from her chair, and stepped over the slinky Jareth had thrown, to walk to his side. Sarah looked up to the door with him. 

            "Don't tell me we have to get up there," she said.

            "We have to get up there."

            Sarah smiled and added, though she knew it childish, "I told you not to tell me."

            She looked to him to see him turn his eyes from the door to her. 

            "Unlike what you seem to think, I do not do everything you tell me to. I am not your slave."

            Her breath caught in her throat at his words. She remembered their significance as obviously did he. Sarah decided to change subject.

            She walked over to stand below the door and reached out for the wall. She nearly stumbled at finding none there. "There's no wall to climb!"

            "No. That would be convenient, wouldn't it?" Jareth smiled at her in humor. 

            "Why don't you do your thing?" 

            That caught his attention. He looked to her and asked curiously, "My _thing_?" 

            Sarah blushed at the emphasis and hoped he couldn't see in the shadow. Of course, with her recent luck, he would have night vision. She cleared her throat and looked to him as evenly and adult-like as she could. "Yeah. You know, magic."

            "Ah," he said, nodding slightly, causing his light hair to fall across the darkness of his shoulders. 

            "So?"

            "Can't," Jareth reluctantly admitted, looking back at the door.

            "You can't?" Sarah asked, smiling despite herself.

            "I'll find another way," he said, obviously trying to change the subject.

            She couldn't help herself and added in retribution for what he started, "You can't use your _thing_?"

            He looked to her sharply and asked with a sneer, "You ever want to get out of this hole?"

            "Yes," she answered as seriously as she could.

            "Then _do_ shut up," he said, looking back to the door. She forced the smile from her face, though her lips still twitched at the corners. Sarah must have struck a good blow, one that annoyed him more for his having played into it, and she liked it. 

            She followed his gaze for some moments as he looked between the door and then back to where the office had been. It was no longer there. The only light fell from the door and they were left with nothing but themselves. 

            "As much as I rue the thought, I believe we are going to have to work together," he said almost to himself. It was only halfway into the sentence Sarah had realized he was talking to her.

            "How?" she asked, cautiously moving to stand next to him, to better see things from his point of view.

            "If I lift you to the door, you must promise to help me up, as well," he said, decidedly not looking at her.

            She looked to him sidelong. "Jareth," she paused after the word. "Goblin King, are you trusting me?"

            He looked to her straight on. "Give me your word."

            "Alright, alright." She looked up at the door, perhaps two feet above Jareth's reach. "How am I to get you up once you get me there?" 

            "How strong are you?" he asked, sizing her with his eyes from toe to top of head.

            "How heavy are you?" she asked back, looking him up as he had her. "Okay, I have an idea. You lift me up. I climb through the door. Then I will grab your hands and you jump as high as you can and I will try to pull you up that extra couple of feet. It's really not that far. I can pull you two feet." At the end, admittedly, it sounded as if she were trying to convince herself of her abilities. But Jareth nodded after a moments' consideration before turning to her with his hands open.

            "Umm . . ." she murmured, walking towards him and letting him place his hands on her hips. "Okay," Sarah said and she really wasn't quite sure why. Almost to reassure herself that she had survived the contact so far. 

            "Put your hands on my shoulders and push off," he said, business like. His seemingly unaffected continence only caused her to be more uneasy, but she tried to ignore it the best she could and did as he said.

            "Whoa!" she said as he lifted her up towards the door. "Got it!" It was then she realized something, as she was pulling herself through the doorway and felt Jareth's hands pushing up her feet. "Don't you look up my skirt, or I won't help you out."

            Jareth didn't reply but gave her foot the final shove to send half her body up into the Game Room again. She scrambled to pull herself all the way up. The goblins were talking amongst themselves excitedly and the sound was reassuring after their silence. She rested for a moment on the floor, gathering her skirt around her ankles.

            Sarah looked to the door and saw only the shadow from where she had came. She wondered . . .Never did she really give Jareth her word. Not really. She could close the door right now and he'd be trapped down there. Would she win then? Or would the game stop altogether? 

            No. She had in fact intended her words to be an oath. Sarah had given her word essentially. And she couldn't leave him down there. 

            Sarah moved cautiously to the edge of the door and look down. She could see nothing. Perhaps it was a one way sort of thing. Maybe he could see her but she couldn't see him. She had to at least try. Of course, she didn't want to fall in, either. 

            Glancing around the door, she realized that in the Game Room it was merely a doorframe, and from the side, she closed her leg around the frame, as if straddling the wood. Finally, she leaned forward her whole body and reached down her hands. 

            She felt hands, gloved in leather, grasp her wrists and she pulled. The idea that two feet was not very much when hoisting a fully grown man from below was a ridiculous idea once put into practice. She fell forward slightly and was relieved to have a leg around the doorframe. The weight lessoned as she took a breath, then she pulled again, harder, throwing her whole body back and she felt the hands leave her own. Sarah was disappointed that it hadn't worked until she saw the hands on the edge of the doorframe and Jareth quickly pulled himself up to rest his elbows on the ledge. 

            "I told you I could do it," she said, defiantly, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. 

            "I had no doubt you could," he muttered as he pulled himself the rest of the way out, far too easy for Sarah's tastes. As Jareth stood to his feet, Sarah unfolded her leg from the doorframe and stood as well. "I merely doubted if you would," he finished and Sarah knew the truth in those words and possibility. Sarah had made her choice, and she raised her chin slightly, proud of herself and unwilling to doubt. Jareth smiled and stepped back.

            "Are you ready for the next trial?" he asked, spreading his hands out before him.

            Sarah had to move out of the way as the door closed itself and the goblins erupted in laughter. 

* * *

**To all readers and reviewers: **

Thank you for reading and I'd appreciate a review with feedback.

**Goodness: **I'm glad you enjoy the story so. Especially that you like how I am portraying Jareth. I admit that I take care to make sure I am not playing safe with the character, and making him dull, like he's ever repeating old lines, but I also try to make sure I don't have him acting OOC. Thank you for your review.

**Lady Tremere: **I'm glad that the piece got across that Jareth really had no intentions towards her child. Her husband is an interesting character. What will be shown of him is given through Sarah. The reasoning behind that is that to her, he really was chosen as a role. She wanted a protector, a provider, a figure, and name. She didn't so much care as the depth beneath it though she'd fight nail and claw if someone said that to her. I think you are right about the adjective being hyphenated. I'm glad you think I've captured Jareth's voice. I always worry over that. Since he is my favorite character and all. Thank you for your review.

**TerpintineMind****:** You hope she looses?! LOL! You're my kind of reader! Sorry that I haven't had the time to mosey over to your account. I've been writing up a storm in all my stories (original and otherwise) and have been writing essays on top of it. I think I will read Stolen Dreams and Unforgotten Dreamers. I hope to read some of it as soon as I get the chance. It doesn't help it's on FF.net though. I admit that I really hate reading on FF. The site is so annoying. Thank you for reviewing. 

**Applekrisp14:** You never log in! How am I supposed to check out your stories and favorites then? Well, I could of course look it up, but that'd be effort! LOL. I find a lot of things amusing, too. Life would be horrible without the constant twist of irony and general humor. I'm glad you're enjoying the suspense. Thank you for reviewing.

**Lady Silma: **I agree completely about the manipulation and I'm so glad you picked up on that. Thank you for what you said about my characterization. Luckily, I don't have the problem of picturing little Sarah when I am reading a fiction unless I happen upon one where she is close to the age in the movie, but I tend to avoid those if they are too intense. I think its because I have seen Jennifer in other roles, older roles. And it isn't hard for me to disappear into a story if it is written well. I had at first planned on five parts, but now I think it will be seven. It just would've been too rushed in the planned five. Thank you for reviewing. 


	5. Part Five

No Choice At All

Part Five

* * * 

The goblins seemed to have found the game already a riot. Jareth appeared rightly pleased with himself, but Sarah could not imagine him any other way. While they laughed above her and Jareth looked on with seemingly detached amusement, Sarah gathered her skirt about her, mourning the foot long tear running from the ankle-length hem of her nightgown to shortly up her calf. There was nothing she could do about the tear without making it worse. It didn't change the fact that her favorite nightgown was now ruined. Damn . . . whatever that old man was.

            "Pick a door, any door, Sarah," Jareth intoned with a sweep of the arm to the doors before them.

            "I don't think so," Sarah objected, standing straight and trying to ignore her bruised and torn state. It also didn't help that there was a little voice in the back of her mind reminding her that this was only one door in. "Not until I get some answers."

            There were whistles and ooh's and ah's from above, too loud for the amount of goblins lining the balcony. Jareth leaned back on one leg, the other foot set out towards her. He crossed his arms, eyes playful and glittering with mischief, lips stern.

            "Go on, dear woman, ask your questions." 

            She cleared her throat and raised her chin just a bit higher to steel her resolve. For every small tilt of the chin made up for one inch of his looming height. This only seemed to amuse him more.

            "How did I lose exactly?" 

            He grinned at this question, teeth gleaming. It was a wolfish smile that caused a tingle she took as discomfort to run down her spine.

            "You feared," he answered plainly, and the goblins giggled nervously from above. Jareth didn't even glance back at the goblins as he spoke to them acidly. "Silence, you quivering cake worms. I saw you hiding back like the cowards you are."

            "Feared? Of course I was scared! How could that mean anything?" she said, raising her hands to her hips.

            "Dear Sarah, that was the trial: to master your fear," he explained.

            "Wait, wait, wait," she said, holding up her hands. "I thought I lost because I didn't pick the door on the left, the door you wanted. But then, why didn't I lose for picking the right door? Or had I already lost?" Towards the end, she began to sounds as if her mind was abuzz with questions. "How am I supposed to win if I don't know what's going on?" Sarah finished in exasperation.

            There was a short silence from Jareth. The goblins scurried and shifted above them, unwilling to raise their voices in their king's stillness. 

            "Was that one question?" he asked slyly.

            "No," she said, realizing her hands were resting on her hips. Slowly, glancing between Jareth and the goblins as if hoping they hadn't noticed, she lowered her hands to her sides. Karen put her hands on her hips. Dear god, Sarah was turning into her step-mother. "It was several." She paused a moment. "I'll try that again."

            "Please do," Jareth said as if giving her permission.

            "Why didn't I get into trouble for not choosing the right door like I did for not choosing the left?"

            "For I never told you to pick the right door," Jareth answered, only causing her more confusion.

            "But you said . . ." she trailed off at a stilling look in his eyes.

            "I said and I quote, "Never, ever, under any circumstances, whether they be dire or otherwise, choose the right door." It was very wise of you to heed my advice though I suppose I tricked that choice from you."

            "No, you're wrong," Sarah objected, shaking her head.

            "My memory is perfect," Jareth fairly purred, deep in his throat; a tone that made her gulp. "It is not my fault that you had neither the patience nor the manners to wait until I had my word before moving on to choose a door. So rash, Sarah."

            "I can't believe this . . . Wait, I can. One moment it's, "Take some risks, Sarah,"" she began to imitate his deeper voice and lilting accent. "Then the next, it's "Don't be rash, Sarah." Do you expect me to be both?"

            A slow smile spread across his face as he raised one arm of the two that were folded across his chest to rest one gloved finger against his lips as if in thought. A very short thought.

            "Yes."

            She raised her hands to her face in frustration, quelling the scream in her throat so that it sounded as a high hum. Sarah reminded herself that this was what she'd wanted. In a twisted this-was-not-what-she-expected sort of way. But what could she have expected from Jareth but the unexpected? Stupid, stupid girl of a woman.

            "You are the most frustrating person, **ever**," she growled through her hands. 

            Her answer was his deep laughter amongst the shrill cries of the goblins. 

            She pulled her hands slowly from her face and glared at him as best she could over her fingertips. 

            "I wish I never apologized to you," she said, trying to sound cutting. Yet, he seemed unharmed. 

            "You picked the door, Sarah. You chose your own judge. In essence, you chose your own punishment if you were to lose, which was an inevitability, I might add. The man has always been overly sentimental," Jareth said with a sigh. "Enough questions. Time for poor Sarah to make a choice." 

            "I just chose," she said slowly. "Isn't it your turn?"

            "Turn?" he laughed the word. "To make the game fair – I thought you'd appreciate this- you must have some advantage as I have my own. I have knowledge. You have choice. Make use of it."

            "Oh," she muttered, turning back to the doors. "Okay then." 

            "Hmm," Sarah hummed to herself, unconsciously hurrying her choosing as she sensed Jareth grow impatient. Really, she didn't think it a smart thing to do to test his humor. She still remembered running down tunnels, tugging on Hoggle's hand as metal, sharp and gleaming, chased and cornered them with little where to go.

            Oh, she missed Hoggle.

            "I get to pick out of all three?" she asked and he nodded, flicking his hand at her to further rush. "Ok, then I pick . . . the middle door, again." 

            Jareth passed by her, his sleeve's fabric brushing against her bare skin. The fabric was cold or perhaps her skin was just overly warm. 

            As he pulled the door open, the door –frame and all- fell the three inches or so it had been floating off the ground to land heavily on the floor. The sound was far too heavy and resonating for the appearances of the door. Jareth cautiously stepped aside as the doorframe began to teeter back and forth. Sarah watched in detached fascination as the open doorframe began to fall right on her. 

            At the last moment, Jareth's hand grasped around her wrist with biting strength, pulling her out of the way. The door fell on its open face on the floor; its mouth a gaping darkness against the granite. Jareth let go of her wrist as soon as the door crashed against the hard stone.

            He walked to the doorframe guardedly, glancing in over the edge. Jareth's eyes flickered to Sarah momentarily as she rubbed her wrist and looked on to him with question.

            "I do not wish to lose because you have not the common sense to move out of the way of a falling door, Sarah. The dead don't pay dues," he explained away, daring with his eyes for her to say anything to this.

            "So you lose if I die. Good to know," she muttered, walking over to the other side of the door to glance.

            "I don't lose. I merely do not receive my remuneration," he replied and Sarah decided to ignore this.

            "Was this supposed to happen?" Sarah asked, pointing down to the fallen door. "Or did you mess up?" 

            "Doors do not just hang vertically on walls, dear woman. If they were so limited, how would one reach half of where one wishes to arrive?"

            "Huh?" she said before thought caught up to her, as it eventually did. "We get along just fine."

            "Aboveground, not half of you get half of where you wish to be or see half the wonders there are to see," he said with a self-satisfied stance and a hidden smirk that threatened to show. He let it grow as she look to him silently, letting the words gather in her mind. "Ladies first." He gestured grandly down the gaping hole in the floor.

            "No way," she said, taking a step back. "You first."

            "Scared?" he teased with roguish appeal, eyes too pleased and grin not nearly as hidden as it could've been. But before she could reply to this, he had stepped onto the darkness within the doorframe, falling without sound.

            "Well," Sarah said to herself. "I don't want to go down there," she whined, stomping her foot once. The goblins squabbled and cackled and generally made a raucous. "And I wish they'd just **shut up**. Oh, great, now I'm talking to myself. I suppose if I'm already talking to myself in a room full of goblins, why not go down the rabbit hole . . . Minus the rabbit. Yeah, just one big jackass." She laughed to herself as she stepped over the darkness in the doorframe and waited to drop. She didn't have to wait long. Sarah should've closed her eyes. The sight of the room falling away was a disturbing one.

            Her feet met the hard ground sharply, knees buckling with her weight. She fell down on her hands and knees, feeling a stinging in her palms. Sarah raised her hands into the ray of light cast down from the doorframe above. They were covered in dirt. She looked around herself and a sickening lurch ripped through her stomach as she began to recognize her surroundings. No, no, no . . . not that. 

            "An oubliette," Jareth's voice raised her eyes to where he leaned against a rocky wall, barely visible in the scarce light. "You seem rather fond of these. Though, once you have seen one you have seen them all."

            "Damn!" she hit her hands against the dirt ground and immediately regretted it as the stinging ran through her hands and fingers, sharp. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" That hadn't kept her from repeating the gesture three more times. Jareth's soft laughter caused her to whip her head back to his lithe and darkly form. "Do you find this _amusing_?" she asked, watching him move away from the wall, looking back at it with distaste.

            "I find it _filthy_." 

            She sighed, raising her hands into the light to look at her palms again. If there were any scratches from the landing or blood, they were too covered with dirt to tell.

            "What do we do now?" she asked after several moments of silence, letting her hands fall limply into her lap.

            Jareth looked around them; at the unforgiving walls and hard earth and finally to the doorway that was too far above their heads to ever hope to climb out. 

            "We wait," he answered and walked out of the light from the doorway completely, blending into shadow.

            Hours passed, she was sure of it. The moments felt like forever and she longed for Jareth to use his magic to reorder time, to turn the clock ahead. Of course, she had a sneaking suspicion that was really a bit more, that Jareth couldn't use his magic once he entered the doors. One of her advantages, she would wager. Or perhaps to take away one of his own.

            Sarah couldn't stand waiting. Never would she have thought Jareth to be the patient one between them. She had always characterized him as impulsive and passionately tempered. There was enough to support both but as she paced back and forth in the door-shaped ray of light, mumbling to herself, he stood quietly in shadow. Sarah liked to describe it as sulking but there wasn't very much to support that. He just waited. 

            "This isn't what I agreed to," she finally broke the silence. 

            "And what, pray tell, were you expecting, Sarah? A game of checkers, perhaps?" His voice sounded sarcastic and lackadaisical.

            Sarah hated that he kept to the shadows so that she couldn't see him. She wanted to see his face, to try to read his features, to read his eyes. He was just as imposing in shadow as light, but beyond the light Sarah was lost with nothing to ground to. In her mind, he became the shadow that enveloped and captured her, pressing in on her. 

            "No, I expected something more . . ." As she searched for a word to describe her expectations she felt the shadow grow heavy around and on her. "Controlled."

            "Ah . . . . Controlled . . ." He murmured the word as if it amused him or was some foreign thought.

            "Yeah, like before. I had one objective. I had one goal. There was one prize. The Labyrinth was a constant adversary but I chose the way. I knew there was a way to beat it."

            "The Labyrinth was your adversary? Is the Labyrinth just a maze as the door is just a door?" Jareth walked from the consuming shadow into the doorway of light.

            "Well, yeah. But you know the meaning of what you just said. A door really isn't just a door here, is it? Not always, anyway. You've just confirmed what I'd thought; the Labyrinth isn't just some maze. It's more." Sarah could hear the awe in her voice as her earlier suspicions were confirmed. To Jareth, this was nothing new and her pleasure with the discovery was probably, at best, a loss to him, and at worse, a puerile annoyance.

            "Good girl," Jareth said and Sarah would wager his response to have been in-between; he was indulgent, as one would to another who was barely above incompetent. "But how much more?"

            "You tell me. You know more than I do," she said back, unwilling to guess when she could just be told. Once, she'd have liked to fantasize the possibilities. To know used to be to kill the thrill. But she had been little more than a child then. Fantasy offered little security. Reality was a painful constant but it was better to become numb to it than to cry out at the constant jar of the pleasant from the real. 

            "The Labyrinth is uncontrolled without my presence. It has only one master, yet I must choose to limit that control you have so grown to treasure." His tone was tight and delightfully dangerous. Sarah watched as he weaved in and out of shadow and light. Trying to follow the flicker of his figure hurt her eyes and she tried to quell the annoyance that threatened to make her say stupid things that were better not said.

            "Why?" she asked, biting her tongue and averting her eyes, instead of yelling at him to stay in one damn place. "Why not control it? Wouldn't you want that power?"

            He disappeared back into shadow, but not before a wicked grin was caught in the light. "Wild magic is most potent."

            "Mmm-hmm . . ." she murmured, not really trying to understand his magic. "You aren't controlling this game, then?"

            "Now, that wouldn't be fair, Sarah, and where's the fun in that?"

            "Then the Labyrinth is controlling the game. Every time you walk through the door I choose, I have as much a chance to win as you. I can figure this out." She rose to her feet, ignoring the feel of dirt on her palms and beneath her nails. Sarah wiped her hands on her nightgown before resting them on her hips. She looked around herself with new vigor. The shadows had to be there for a reason; they had to be hiding something. That's why Jareth was in the shadows. He wasn't being enigmatic; he was being sneaky.

            With resolve, she walked into the deep shadows that clung to the imposing walls.

            Some time later, she leaned against some darkened outcrop of rocks fashioned into the oubliette. Sarah had a feeling that Jareth had long searched any such escape before she had even resolved to palm the walls.

            Jareth had taken to humming to himself some annoyingly contagious little tune. It was only a matter of time before she began to hum along. Of course, he chose a few moments later to stop so that her off-key rendition echoed around the walls. She stopped immediately almost into a choke. 

            His amused chuckled filled the silence and she glared at the wall she faced, hoping against all reason to burn a hole through the stone. If the blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks was any indication, the heat of her combined frustration and embarrassment would slowly melt away the wall.

            "I hate you," she grumbled, shortly after he fell silent, and she heard him scoff in amusement. "Really, I do."

            "Is that so?" Jareth replied in the first words he'd spoken for an indeterminate amount of time. 

            "Yes, it is." Again she heard him scoff in the shadows. "I tell you I hate you and you scoff. The nerve. I'd think even you'd have the decency to care one way or the other; not to merely scoff it away as if I don't mean it because, at this moment –Oh, believe me!- I do. But, of course, we are talking about the Goblin King."

            "But you don't mean your words, Sarah." His voice was far too amused for her shaky patience.

            "No, I do."

            Again, he scoffed.

            "I swear, if you scoff just one more time, I'll . . ."

            "Yes? You will?" he prompted and if Sarah was not so tense and frustrated herself she would've noticed the bite, the warning, in his tone.

            "I'll do something sensible," Sarah finished lamely.

            "And what would that be, Sarah?" Jareth asked as he stepped into the doorway of light, his hair catching the golds and appearing too bright in her eyes after so long looking into darkness. "Where have your sensible actions led? To a husband who knows nothing of your silent fantasies and longing? To a child not made of them but to silence them? Your sensible choices seem very poor ones indeed. And, yet, you would wish to repeat them? For shame."

            "No!" Sarah objected with her old, fiery resolve. "No. They've led me to a man that loves me and protects me. And to a son who I love and would protect with my life."

            "I don't see why not. You gave one away for him already. Or was that Toby? It becomes difficult to distinguish," Jareth replied quickly after her own words.

            "Because of all the babies you steal?" she asked with sardonic humor, taking one step closer to him.

            He watched the movement pointedly before allowing a sharp smirk to break the fine features of his face. "No. Because both you've silently wished away in your dreams and wondered if the freedom would be worth the guilt."

            "How dare you!" she snapped, quickly approaching him, her hand raised without thought.

            He caught it quickly in his firm, almost painful, grip. Jareth's glove pinched the skin of her wrist as he tightened his hold just that bit more, merely to show that he could. She winced but refused to cry out. To try to strike him had been foolish, plainly stupid even, in retrospect. But she wanted so desperately that small show of control. Jareth pulled her closer to him with a jerk of her wrist. Along the way, her bare foot stumbled over some rock on the ground amongst the dirt. She fairly fell into Jareth and he caught and held her, making her feel more captured than saved another fall.   

            "So foolish." He leaned forward to whisper into her ear, resting his cheek against Sarah's own. She jerked and closed her eyes at the contact. "Never again." The warning was clear and she shivered with it. "Never have I raised a hand to you. I expect no less than the same courtesy." He pointedly released her and she jerked back, nearly stumbling on the same rock again. She looked down at her feet, to kick the damn rock away.

            Sarah's mouth gaped slightly after a moment of confusion as she saw the very round, very shiny, very metallic . . . thing for lack of better description. It was surely not a rock and surely not there before. She fell to her knees and began to brush away dirt with her hands, revealing a hinge at the very edge of the light. She looked to Jareth to say something about what she found. She saw that she didn't have to as he already kneeled beside a latch that –judging from the fact that he was brushing excess dirt from his suede gloves- he had just uncovered. 

            She rose to her feet and stepped away from the light. From a small distance, not taking into account Jareth and his shadow, the darkness of the oubliette seemed to outline a door of light. 

            "I can't believe it," she said, raising a dirty hand to her forehead in disbelief.

            "You seemed to have stumbled on the door," Jareth said in such a stiff tone that Sarah knew it was to cover his own disbelief and, perhaps, jealousy. "Lacking finesse, certainly, but effective all the while."

            "We all can't 'walk fearlessly into darkness,'" she said with a giggle.

            "Congratulations, Sarah. Luck has visited you once again," Jareth said bitterly, stepping back from the light, himself.

            "Does this mean I win?"

            "Undoubtedly."

            She smiled broadly and walked around the door, looking for the knob. Not finding one, she rounded the light again, her smile faltering. On the third round, her grin took on more the appearance of a frown. Meanwhile, she could feel Jareth's own mood lifting. 

            She put her foot on the door and pushed, hoping it would fall open. Finally, Sarah moved to jump up and down in the center of the door, ignoring as Jareth laughed outright.

            "Damn," she finally cursed, slightly out of breath. "I don't suppose you'd know how to open this thing?"

            "In fact, I believe I do," he haughtily replied back. She could see him standing just outside the line of the door, where the light took on a hazy quality and dust glittered in the air around him. One arm rested across his chest, the other's elbow perched upon the first. Jareth held one finger against his lips, as if withholding something he found altogether too amusing. Sarah would bet anything that that something was at her expense.          "Well?" she asked with impatience.

            "Perhaps it would be polite to knock," he suggested. "Just a thought."

            "Knock?"

            He nodded.

            She shrugged with a sigh and fell to a knee. 

            "Ah," Jareth interrupted, almost stepping forward.

            "Yes?" Sarah asked, not so much impatient as wary. It seemed he knew something she didn't.

            "Nothing. Do go on." He pressed the finger back to his lips, which were curled up wickedly.

            She kept a way eye on Jareth as she raised a fist as if to knock. Apprehensively, she brought it down to knock on the dirt ground once, twice, and finally three times. It was then she realized why he had smirked.

            Sarah was sitting on the door when it was opened from the other side. That wasn't fair! Hinges meant the door was supposed to open the other way! Normally, at least. Her luck, it didn't work that way this time and she ended up falling down some dark shaft into a pile of ashes. 

            She sat where she was, momentarily dizzy and sore. Two, strong hands took hold of her arm and tried to pull her up.

            "You better move unless you want to end up in a heap with his majesty in the fire grate any moment. And, even if you do, I don't care much for it, so get up," the woman pulling on her said in a rich, choppy manner.

            Sarah rose to her feet, letting the woman guide her head away from the mantle as she stepped out of the fireplace into a very frilly, very clean sitting room. The woman herself seemed immaculately attired in a teal cocktail dress. Large, black pearls fell around her neck in a very gaudy, but expensive-looking, necklace. Her face was long and cold. Small, beady blue eyes looked over her sternly, pressing otherwise beautiful lips together into a pale disapproving line. The woman sighed throatily and pushed Sarah towards a beige couch. "Oh, sit," she said as if she couldn't stand to look at Sarah anymore.

            "You," Jareth's voice announced his presence as he ducked out of the fireplace. The woman looked him over much the same way she had Sarah, but fiddling with the pearls around her neck. 

            "You, too," she said in greeting. "Don't be so tense, Goblin King. Just sit down with the princess and we can all get this over with."

            Sarah was worried to sit on the immaculate beige couch, as covered in soot as she was, but Jareth seemed to have no such problem and sat himself without care, and he wasn't particularly untouched by dirt and soot, himself. She sat down at the farthest edge from Jareth, uncomfortably amongst pink throw pillows.

            "Congratulations!" the woman exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air and causing Sarah to jump with the radical change in her tone. "You both won!"

            "How?" Sarah asked while Jareth did not appear particularly pleased with sharing the win with her.

            "You both released you anger and found the door," she said, far too chipper. "Without harming, maiming, or otherwise marring each other in the process, I may add. A feat, I'm sure. But you took the anger, embraced it, and moved on to open the door. Kudos to you."

            "Your voice is positively sickening," Jareth said what Sarah had been thinking. His next words, although, were not so in accord. "Get on with the technicalities, if you've finished your sadistic fun."

            The woman's face fell and when she spoke, her voice was harsh and held none of the sweetness of before. "Okay. So it's like this, darling: you both won so you both get something precious from the other. That means -like his highness here was expecting- you both lose."

            "We lose?" Sarah asked in slight shock.

            "Yep."

            "Because we won?"

            "Yes. Smarts, huh?" The woman's tone turned words that could've been sympathetic into just plain mean.

            "But I won!" Sarah objected even as the woman sat on an armchair opposite them and pulled a little, black notepad out from beneath the cushions. She opened it to where a pin marked her place.

            "No, you lose. Jareth loses. And I get a nice bit of brandy to celebrate," she said while scribbling in her notepad.

            "You don't have to sound so absolutely delighted, Marge," Jareth said from Sarah's side.

            "No, you see. I do, because I am," she said with a smile that, for lack of a better word, was 'happy.' "I don't care if you end up winning this damn thing. In between then and now I plan to get plastered and perhaps go for a nude frolic in the fiery forest. And since the Bog is drying up, that's out of the picture. The Bog of Not-Quite-Eternal Stench, more like."

            "I'm sure I can concoct something equally miserable," Jareth said with a flippant gesture of the hand.

            "Certainly," Marge agreed, her smile falling to forced. "But that's if you win. If she wins the next one you, your majesty, fall folly to your own self-indulgent ways."

            Sarah at first was going to say nothing to this. This woman obviously wanted her to win and, of course, Sarah wanted to win, so they were of accord. That is, until she began to tally their score so far in her head.

            "Oh no," Sarah breathed the words as all the air seemed to escape her then. It felt as if her heart had fallen into her stomach and made it heavy and ill.

            She knew Jareth looked to her and might've even said something though the words eluded her. 

            "I've already lost."

            By this game's apparent guidelines, she had lost twice and Jareth only once. If she won the next trial, they'd be tied. And a tie was a loss. If she failed the next trial, she'd lose. If she won, she still would lose. She was damned either way.

            "Aw, look at her face. You can almost watch the pieces fall together. I almost feel sorry for her," Marge's voice continued to rattle on while Sarah tried to clear her mind to the fact that she'd lost. "She's going to cry."

            "I'm not going to cry," Sarah bit out each word, refusing to look anywhere but at her knees.

            "You've lost, sweet cheeks. You played the game once and you were lucky. But Jareth was controlling that one. You might not have noticed but Jareth's got a soft spot for you," Marge continued, fingering the dark pearls between her pretty fingers. 

            "Careful," Jareth warned under his breath, pushing off from the couch to stand. It didn't make Sarah uncomfortable at that moment because she didn't care; she'd lost.

            Marge eyed him warily for a moment before going on. She leaned over on the side of the armchair as if her words would then be somehow more directed at Sarah. But her eyes remained on the Goblin King.

            "Oh, not to say he made it easier on you. Oh, no. At some points, he lost his temper and even made it harder. But he didn't make it as hard as he could have." At Jareth's vicious glare, she inserted, "What? It's not as if the whole Labyrinth with half a brain isn't thinking it. It's not as if the whole Underground doesn't know that you played with her a little and she accidentally got away." It was then the woman turned her eyes to Sarah and they were cold. "But now you are playing the Labyrinth, itself. Stupid, just stupid. The Labyrinth can't 'fall in love with the girl' and won't give her 'special powers.' The Labyrinth is a game that doesn't care in the slightest."

            "Are you quite done?" Jareth voice was sharp and pulled Sarah from dark thoughts.

            "Yes, I'm done," Marge said, resting back in the armchair.

            "Why even play anymore then? I lose; that's it." Sarah swallowed back her growing fear. She found that she didn't quite remember what she was to give up if she lost. Sarah had a disheartening suspicion that she had never been told. 

            "You play because I have not yet won," Jareth answered. She looked for the sounds of cruel humor in his tone but found that there was nothing but words.

            "Now, I am to decide your rewards," Marge said, picking invisible lint from the armrest of her chair. "What would be appropriate?" she seemingly asked of the ceiling as her eyes flew skywards. "Something the giver would despise if lost and cherish if kept."

            "Why are you so cruel?" Sarah asked without even realizing that she was about to.

            "Because life's never been fair to me so I sure as Hell am not going to let it be anymore fair to you!" Marge snapped, squinting at Sarah viciously. 

            "You see, Sarah, you were not the only girl to wish away an unwanted child, only to ask for the same child back when taken away," Jareth explained, moving to stand beside the fireplace. "Some men and women, boys and girls, beg for the child back and run the Labyrinth at my leisure. But some of the wishers get distracted upon the way by pretty things and can never find their way back. Marge made it to the junkyard and never deemed to leave."

            Marge had begun to knead the hem of her cocktail dress between her fingers, eyes looking straight ahead and seeing something that Sarah could not.

            "All I wanted was to have a party," the woman whimpered. "I only wanted to have some pretty things and a clean house to show to people. I just wanted to throw a party. Now that everything is clean and I'm ready, no one wants to visit anymore."

            "How long has she been down here?" Sarah asked, not asking the woman herself as she appeared temporarily vacant.

            "Sixteen years," Jareth answered. "Give or take."

            "This is cruel!"

            "She could leave, at any point," he responded before pointing to a door behind the armchair and to the right. "All she has to do is walk through that door."

            "I can't go back!" Marge seemed to come back to herself. "Without Nancy, what would people say? I can't go back."

            It sickened Sarah to look at this woman. She only cared what others would think and chose to rot away amongst trash. It was pathetic. Some small voice in the back of her mind whispered that such was what she'd become. She didn't hide in a sitting room in the Labyrinth's Junkyard mumbling about parties. But she still cared, perhaps too much. She married her husband because it was the right thing to do and it felt nice to be told what a lovely pair they made. They bought the house because it was on the good side of town and minded the lawn to make sure the grass was never longer than that of their neighbors'. And Jonathon . . . well, they'd have to have a baby sometime and the neighbors and her parents were always asking when; if not asking then staring and Sarah knew just the same. 

            "Sarah, you'll give him your wedding band," Marge's voice intruded on her thoughts. "That's his reward. Hand it over."

            "My wedding ring? Why? Why would he care about it?" Sarah asked defensively, covering her left hand against her belly with her right.

            "He doesn't, but you do," she answered.

            Reluctantly, Sarah began to pull the ring from her finger as she stood from the couch. The short steps to hand the golden band to Jareth seemed both long and too few. He held out a gloved palm and Sarah laid the ring upon it, watching as he closed his fingers and it was gone; like magic.

            "And you," Marge said while turning her attention to Jareth. "What do you have, Goblin King? You have title and power. The power is not yours to give. So title it is then."

            Jareth only laughed.

            "That is my decision," Marge said very seriously, scribbling in the black notepad that rested in her lap. She couldn't have been writing anything legible; her eyes were focused on Jareth and her hand's movements were almost frantic.

            "My title?" Jareth laughed the words. "Oh, yes, Sarah would make a lovely Goblin King. Yet, I do not believe she could fill my breeches."

            Sarah wasn't insulted. She knew for certain she couldn't and blushed at the thought.

            "I'm not telling you to give her your breeches. You are to give her your title," Marge instructed very slowly through clenched teeth.

            Jareth turned to Sarah with a half-smile that seemed barely amused but she didn't believe the he could care so little about turning over his title. "Sarah, I dub thee King of the Goblins."

            "What's that mean?" Sarah asked after a moment, as horrifying visions of donning a billowing cloak and kidnapping babies flashed through her mind. 

            "Absolutely nothing," the woman answered, closing the notepad and rising to her feet. "Perfect, isn't it? I think it fits the situation very nicely. You both had to give up something precious that you'd despise to do without, yet is meaningless to the other without the person from which it came. Brilliant, even if I do say so myself." 

            "How do I get out of here?" Sarah questioned, trying desperately not to begin an argument with this hateful woman.

            "How else?" Marge asked back, clutching the notepad to her breast. 

            "The door," Jareth answered, walking across the room to the door behind the armchair.

            "Then bye to you," Sarah said, following Jareth to the door.

            "Good. Go," Marge instructed, turning to watch them leave.

            Jareth opened the door and left without a word or glance and Sarah moved to follow. 

            "The guests should be here soon," Sarah heard Marge say in great expectation just before she walked into the darkened doorway. 

            The doorway led not to Jareth's Game Room as Sarah had expected but to another place altogether. Old, ivory pillars stood, supporting a ceiling that was no longer there. A midday sun sent soft light down on the ruins of some great theatre; Jareth and Sarah the only souls so to speak, standing in the center of a grand, stone stage. On all sides, they were surrounded by orchard trees and small, yellow wildflowers. Broken statues peeked out from behind the odd trunk and fragments of the lost ceiling stood out amongst the wild grasses. 

            Two doors sat on the stage; one at the farthest left and one to the farthest right. They were both of plain cedar with brass knobs and were set into plain stone walls, somehow surviving whatever had so torn asunder the rest of the theatre. 

            Sarah turned to Jareth in puzzlement. "Where are we?"

            Jareth looked back, his face cold but eyes hiding some foreign thought, which Sarah desperately hoped was not alarm. For a moment, she didn't think he was going to answer but it was as he looked away that he said, "I'm not quite certain."

            "I was afraid you were going to say that," she admitted, swallowing fear in a physical gulp. 

* * * 

**To all readers and reviewers: **

Thank you and feedback is always appreciated. 

**Midnight Lady: **I agree with what you said about the child, that it's possible for the child to be loved and wanted. Just at that moment, Jareth was being sneaky. And, of course, the view of the characters are not always my own. I'm glad you liked that little description of "midnight dream or fantasy." I'm glad you enjoyed my story. I hate homework. Always have. Scars children, me thinks. Thanks for reviewing.

**Goodness:** Oooh! I love hearing that! I try to stay true to the movie as much as I can, but adding a more adult twist. I hope you like this chapter. Thanks for reviewing.

**Mari2: **I feel complimented that you liked my story so much to sign in. I know, going through all that to sign in and all to review can be a real hassle sometimes. Thank you for what you said about Jareth's characterization. I do try to stay to the characters, especially Jareth. He can be tricky to do sometimes. Thanks for reviewing.

**Applekrisp14: **Yeah, that "doctor" annoyed me too. The chewing of the tongue really annoyed me and I wrote it! But that's who he is so I guess I should be happy that he got across like that to others. Thanks for logging in. I like to be able to check out the favorites and the stories of the people who review me. Unfortunately, I tend to stay away from actually reading on FF now. There's just such an abundance of stuff to sift through to get to anything worth it. That's why I use favorites when I do stop by. I think I've read a couple from your favorites but I don't remember anymore. Unfortunately, I don't read POTC. I'm sorry. If I start, I'll know where to go. Thanks for reviewing.

**Lady Silma: **"LMAO!" We seriously need to discus the concept of private conversations. Good grief!" Sound familiar? Jeeze, pick a side, Silma! First you don't want me to be familiar and then the next you say I'm too distant. What do you want from me! *Sobs* Anyways, thanks for reviewing. 


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